fruit notes
The Candicot is an aprium, meaning it's mostly apricot with some plum parentage in the mix. The plum shows up in the skin's slight tang, which is a welcome sidecar to the sweet, tropical burst of flavor in the flesh. This is the best aprium out there, and has remade our expectations for what one could be. Just a week or two more of these. From Free Spirit Farm, grown organically in Winters.
Spring Bright nectarines sport these celestial markings all around their skin, light streaks and spots against the maroon night sky. Or are they pyrotechnics? Bite into one and you may reconsider: those stars and asteroids were fireworks.
The Flavor Crest is Masumoto's intermezzo peach. It's rich and juicy, with a leathery skin that pulls away from the flesh as you bite into it. Give it a day on the counter to reach its climax, and then set aside a couple minutes to savor the richness of summer. Grown organically by Masumoto Family Farm in Del Rey.
It occurred to us while packing this week that olallieberries might top mulberries in perishability. There is a reason you don't see these around too often. Do yourself a favor and dig into these with haste, they're a rare treasure. Eat within a day or two. Grown organically by JSM Organics in Royal Oaks.
Simply the best! Chandler strawberries from Swanton Berry Farm. Grown organically in Davenport.
We love a farmer with an opinion, so when farmer John of Sierra Cascade says 99% of the blueberries grown in the state are a variety that does nothing for him, you take notice. Instead, he grows varietals he calls heirlooms, which, depending on how you define the word, may or may not technically classify, but the point at the heart is the same: these are selected for flavor. This week it's Duke & Bluecrop blueberries. Grown organically by Sierra Cascade Farm in Forest Ranch.
I nominate Flavor Supreme pluots for best-dressed pluot. Emerald skins and ruby flesh? I'm sold on looks alone. Luckily they taste pretty good too. Grown organically by Free Spirit Farm in Winters.
Living up to the prefix, Royal Blenheim apricots are the queen. This is the last week for these, so savoring them is in order. Picking orders yesterday, I caught a glimpse through the slats of a box. Even in warehouse lighting, their pastel hues had a faint glow, like low-powered neon. I double-took, and it vanished. Part of the pleasure with Blenheims is their ephemeral nature. But you already knew that. Grown organically by Spreadwing Farm in Rumsey.
